Wilted And Faded
by Carlos'sCupcake
Summary: Love is like a plant, it has to be nourished to flourish. What happens when Logan neglects his relationship?


When I wake up, I make my way down to the kitchen and sit at the breakfast bar, watching her load the dishwasher. "Mornin' babe", I greet her.

"Morning", she grumbles back after a few seconds without turning around to look at me, her long blonde hair hanging over her shoulder shields her face.

"Make me some coffee?", I ask.

"Don't you have two arms and two legs?", she spits back, taking me by surprise.

"Well yeah", I respond, a bit offended.

She doesn't say anything, but stands up straight and slams the dishwasher door closed and sashays right past me to the cleaning closet, where I observe her grab a broom, and make her way back. Thinking she was just joking, because she tends to get caught up in her duties when she's cleaning, I grab her around the waist. "Babe", I say, but am cut off when she pries my hand from her and rolls her eyes before turning her head away from me.

Stunned with her reaction, my response is delayed until she starts sweeping the floor by the refrigerator, acting as if I'm not even here. "You mad at me or something?"

"Yup".

I run my fingers through my hair, wondering what the hell is going on and try to joke around to lighten the mood. "So I get no coffee cause you're mad this morning?"

Like the girl in The Exorcist, she spins around at lightning speed and lets the broom go. It falls to the tiled floor with a slam, but she doesn't even jump. Ignoring it, she places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. "Do you know what today is?", she asks.

"Saturday?", I reply.

"Yeah", she nods her head, her lips pressed together tightly. "So that means that last night was Friday. Does that ring a bell or anything?", one of her arms goes out to the side.

I swallow hard, not coming up with anything as I repeat the word 'Friday' over and over in my head. "No", I answer reluctantly.

"Right", her voice gets louder, "because you never remember anything when it comes to me. On Monday after our argument you promised to take me out last night. But as usual, I can see you just said what you had to say to get me off your back."

"What?!", I gasp. How did it go from me wanting coffee to a promise?

I watch her cross her arms over her chest and plant her foot firmly to the floor. "I'm done, Logan. I can't handle being with you anymore", she says as if she was asking me what I wanted for dinner.

"I don't understand", I retort, thinking she's just playing. How is it so hard to be with me?

She stalks across the room and slams her palms down on the counter in front of me, ready to answer the question I didn't even have to ask aloud. "I'm nothing to you Logan. I work just like you do to make a living, but every night you run out with some excuse. It's always that you're going to hang out with James, your sister's washer or something else broke and you have to fix it. The guys asked you to come out for a drink. You have to work late". I can feel my eyes widening as her anger comes out more and more with each word. "Because everybody and everything else is more important than me", she screams, and I watch horrified as tears spill down onto her cheeks. "I can't live like this anymore. I deserve to be with someone who wants to spend time with me and make me feel like I'm number one for once."

"No", I protest and scoot the stool out from the counter, attempting to get up.

"Yes, Logan", she shakes her head back and forth, a silent warning for me not to come near her. "That's exactly how it is. You never even invite me to come out with you guys."

"Everyone is entitled to have friends and free time away from their significant other", I tell her.

"Yeah, and it'd be nice to sit with boyfriend and hear a bunch of men talking about boobs and asses and blow jobs rather than sitting all alone in an empty house, listening to silence all the time. I'm just the bitch here who does everything for you damn it. It's not fair, I work, too and want to be happy. Basically all I am is a maid, a housekeeper, and a hired prositute who doesn't even get paid!"

"That's not true. Look at the big house I provide for you and the fancy sportscar you drive around in", I try to defend myself.

"Oh wow", it comes out sarcastic as she flings her head from side to side. "A big house and nice car compensate for attention right? Because it keeps me from being lonely and puts a smile on my face. Yeah, I'm so lucky", she stands back up straight, her loose hair now messy from swaying around. "You just don't get it, Logan. I need someone to spend time with me, not someone to buy me things. Hell, I'd kill for a night of sitting on the couch cuddling and watching t.v. A date could be fun just ordering take-out and playing Monopoly or anything, but I get none of that with you. You can't just leave love around to die. It needs nourishment or it fades away, like us. Like our love did", her hand goes back and forth between her and myself. Her face is red and tear stained, she's trembling.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I thought. I'm leaving. For real this time", she chokes out.

I don't realize the moment my feet hit the floor, but before I know it my hands are on her hips and I'm lowering my face to hers.

"NO!", she shouts and pushes me away. "Flashing those dimples or batting those eyelashes aren't gonna get me in bed and make me forget everything. Any other time we'd go upstairs and make love, then you'd run off to do whatever, and everything would be fine. But I'm tired of being at your convenience anytime you please. I'm tired of going through this vicious cycle and ending up with the same results. I'm at the end of my rope, Logan, I'm good and done". She looks me square in the eye and I watch in a daze as she disappears from my view and the sound of her bare feet padding up the stairs fills my ears.

Half an hour later I sit here frozen, watching out the window as a taxi pulls up in the driveway and honks it's horn. My heart breaks as I watch her descend the stairs, dragging a suitcase and a backpack strapped to her shoulders. Without a word or a glance, she disappears out the door and into the yellow car, and all I can think about is how right she is; our love has wilted and faded just like the life cycle of a flower.


End file.
